


Never tickle a wounded Dragon.

by VM Cameron (lizze213)



Category: Dramione - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Healing, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, dracoandhermione, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28880427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizze213/pseuds/VM%20Cameron
Summary: Draco Malfoy is broken and, at this point, nothing can fix him. After leaving Azkaban, there is only one option to regain freedom: allow Hermione Granger to try to reincorporate him into the Magical Society.Hermione will face the greatest challenge of her entire career in the Ministry of Magic: getting a Death Eater like Malfoy to rehabilitate... all the while trying not to be dragged by him into his personal hell.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 28
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: There are a few things you need to know. This fic contains explicit sex descriptions, violence, A LOT of bad words, suicidal behaviour, self-destructing acts and toxic attitudes. (It also contains a high-dose of depressive music.) It may affect you if you are sensitive or very young.  
> ALSO. This fic is posted in only 3 websites: Wattpad: (tequila_213), fanfiction.net and Ao3: (lizze213).

_Chapter 1_

_Everything's so blurry and everyone's so fake / And everybody's empty and everything is so messed up._

Puddle of Mudd - Blurry

DRACO

_4th of October 2001._

Draco Malfoy walked out of his dark cell. He thought he would finally get a glimpse of light as soon as he had left that steel door behind. He didn’t. The wide corridor seemed as black as the robes of the dementors that had been watching him for the last three years. More than a thousand days locked in Azkaban, more than a thousand days he had wished to just die.

The official from the Magic Ministry made some manacles appear around the white wrists of Draco. The young wizard felt pain when his hands separated from each other, even if just a couple of inches. It felt like he was being burnt.

The official didn’t say a word. Draco followed him, he didn’t even know him, but he was old and he looked at him the same way someone would, if they had been asked to take a rat out of its trap. He ignored that look without an effort, he didn’t care about being rejected. He was used to it already.

During those three years inside of that prison, Draco Malfoy had suffered so many tortures and aberrations that nothing could affect him anymore, he had lost every single drop of humanity he had. Draco had realised the true nature of that vile twisted world: sadness and grief.

Narrowing his gray eyes, Draco walked after the official, head lowered. He felt the presence of a dementor just a couple of meters behind him. The skin on the back of his neck prickled and the chill became particularly intense as the creature moved a little closer to him. But he didn't feel sad, no, Draco didn't feel anything anymore.

The screams of other prisoners reached his ears, although he did not look up an inch from the ground. Death Eaters easily freaked out, especially when they knew there was nothing out there now that the Dark Lord had definitely disappeared. Potter had killed him.

That memory brought forth a bitter smile from him. It was ironic, of course it was. Not even the most experienced wizard in the world had been able to finish off Voldemort. It had to be fucking Harry Potter. A teenager who had never done magic outside of school. It was absurd, but at the same time, it made sense: Potter succeeded in everything, in every activity that he set out to do. He was… he was almost a joke: an enlightened child who had overshadowed everyone else since the day he was born. Malfoy had no idea what had happened to Potter in those years but, by now, he imagined that he would already be the goddamn Minister for Magic. He wouldn't be surprised by that.

They went down some stone stairs without a railing. Draco looked curiously at the vast emptiness at his feet, barely inches away from his body. The free fall into that darkness seemed to be for miles, if he fell, he would die. If he threw himself down there... if he threw himself down there, he would die, too. He fondled the idea of death in his mind for a few moments, as if it was pleasant, a warm idea that would finally grant him relief. Nothing had been nice or warm in the last three years there.

"Don't even think about it" the official growled, turning around. As if he had felt him staring into the void, he might not have been the first to do so. "It would only take me an instant to bring you back, you can't fall."

He understood instantly. It was just one of Azkaban's multiple tortures, then. If he threw himself into the void, he would not fall, only he would have the feeling of being about to die constantly until someone —or something— took him out of there.

"I wasn't thinking about that," he lied.

In fact, the idea of dying visited him often. But he knew it couldn't happen that easily, he still had things to do in that world.

The sound of his voice was strange to him. He had heard himself scream, yes, but… his normal voice? No, he hadn't heard it in almost three years. It was much deeper now than before. Draco Malfoy was now a man, not a boy, and he imagined that everything about him had changed. He hadn't seen himself in a mirror lately, of course, so he didn't know what he looked like.

Fuck. It was hard to think that. _I don't even know what my fucking face looks like_ , he growled in his mind.

He felt two gray eyes looking at him long before he passed the next cell. He felt the eyes stick to his body, eagerly watching, awaiting his pain like a bloody knife stabbing into his pale flesh.

The iron doors of the cells made it possible to see the outside clearly. The central part of those doors was transparent, but it burned anyone who tried to penetrate it. He himself had some burns on his arms from trying to escape in moments of terror. HA-HA. You had to be very stupid to believe that you could get out of there.

He kept walking along the corridor and the officer didn't stop at all as they passed the cell of his father, Lucius Malfoy. There was nothing positive in his gray eyes, nothing good. He didn't seem happy to see him, happy to know that he was being released. He seemed… empty. Just empty.

Draco paused for a moment and his eyes met his father's just as he passed by. He had not been near him for three years. He thought he had heard his screams once, yes, but he had never been able to check if they were actually his. There were so many people he knew there, so many Death Eaters who had been part of his life before the war, some of them had almost been part of his family.

His father's gaze didn't soften at all. The gesture of pride had not lost any of its strength in that gaunt face. Only his eyes remained the same, the rest of that face, once angular and attractive, showed deep-set eyes and a sloppy white beard. Her father looked twenty years older than he actually was. His purple lips moved, uttering words that didn't quite resonate, but which Draco understood perfectly. Just five words. Only five.

"Traitor. It was your fault."

And, even though he believed that nothing could affect him anymore, that he’d had enough, he shuddered when he heard those words. His head seemed to bulge, on the verge of exploding as he processed what his father meant by that. He clearly remembered the last time he had seen him, just the day they had both been arrested and ultimately been sentenced to Azkaban. His father was crying. Throughout his entire young life, that had been the only time Draco had seen his father cry.

Draco, however, had cried more in those three years than in all the previous ones. Lucius Malfoy still had twenty more years to go before his sentence was reviewed and there could be a chance that he could leave Azkaban. Draco doubted his father would last long enough to see the twenty-three year mark anyway.

"Let's go. Walk."

Draco heard that unpleasant man's voice and his legs obeyed, walking like an automaton and looking away from Lucius. Anyway, he had seen a glint of madness in that man's eyes. It was unmistakable. No. Lucius Malfoy definitely wouldn't last much longer there. Draco felt bad for him, bad for himself and bad for the family he had once had. He was alone now.

An old black door opened. The Ministry official walked through it, waiting a few seconds to see Draco follow. Draco walked slowly. His body ached, although he was used to it by now. He had never been extremely muscular, but before he was tall and slender, good looking. Now ... Draco Malfoy weighed about thirty pounds less than when he was seventeen years old and he now wore the tattered Azkaban uniform: a black and gray striped jumpsuit and a fine raincoat that hadn't helped him through the cold nights in that terrible prison. He wasn't wearing any shoes; Draco Malfoy had been barefoot for three years.

"Stay there," the official asked him.

He then reached out for his wand and cast a searching charm to make sure Draco didn't carry any dangerous or enchanted items on him. Magic had not been allowed to him in recent years, and even now, it would be granted in a reduced form. The man nodded, satisfied, when he made sure Draco Malfoy posed no threat.

"We're going to show up at the Ministry," he told him, his tone never changing from the same commanding voice as before "do you know the security rules?"

Draco nodded without saying a word.

The man clicked his tongue, disgusted. Draco's response did not matter, as he proceeded to enumerate a long list of absurd rules that prevented him from performing the simplest of actions without supervision.

"You have been assigned a guardian who will accompany you during the next months in your rehabilitation. You must listen to her instructions at all times, you are not allowed to go anywhere without properly informing your guardian. Family visits will not be authorised until your guardian considers them appropriate. Am I clear?"

Draco almost gave a bitter, broken laugh. Family? What family?

"Who will be my guardian?" He asked hoarsely. Would that really be his voice from now on?

"An auror assigned by the department in charge of PROFSDAR."

"The what?"

"Project for the Rehabilitation of Former Sympathizers of the Dark Regime."

Oh right, that shit they had invented to ruin -even more- the lives of the only young Death Eaters who were going to be paroled. As if they were doing them a favor. The project was a brainwashing shite, anyone could see it.

"You agreed to be part of PROFSDAR. Don't you remember? "

No. He didn't remember anything. Half the time, Malfoy had been delirious and living in a sort of trance to forget the hell he was in. He imagined that was what Azkaban was all about: wishing to be dead.

"Yes. I remember," he lied once more.

The hope of seeing the sunlight again was enough. He would give anything just to breathe in the fresh air of London in the morning, to look up at the sky and see it blue, or gray, or whatever colour it was, but at least to see it.

The official waved his wand and instantly brought out a pair of black cloth shoes.

"Put them on," he asked, handing them to Draco.

Draco found it a bit difficult to put on his shoes with those magic handcuffs that burned every time he moved his hands. The official did not go so far as to force him to put his shoes on faster, but he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor until the young man managed to complete his task. His feet felt strange when they came into contact with the fabric. His skin was dirty, as if covered with a layer of disgusting grime and when it rubbed against the sole of the shoe it felt weird.

"Your guardian will inform you of all the orientations and guidelines to follow during this trial period. Remember that you can be imprisoned again for any act that your guardian considers an attack against the security of magical citizenship."

Nothing on Draco's face altered at those words. The last thing he wanted to think about was going back there, since he hadn't even had time to leave yet. He would decide what to do when he got out of prison. At the moment he had a very clear objective, something that had haunted his mind every day, every hour, every second during those three years. He needed a solution, he had to undo the past somehow, he needed to change it.

The official approached him again and, for the first time, he put his hand on his shoulder. He did it almost in disgust, as if he couldn't bear the thought of putting his hands on the body of a Death Eater, but he still had to. The man sighed and Draco Malfoy began to shake.

The two of them then disapperated from Azkaban.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hope you enjoy the chapter. Thanks a lot to Kayla and Aashna for helping me with the correction!!

_Chapter 2_

_Well you look like yourself / But you're somebody else / Only it ain't on the surface._

Flora Cash - You're somebody else

HERMIONE

Hermione entered the office of her superior, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, John Scholz. Scholz had been transferred to the English Ministry of Magic from Germany a year earlier, where he was a star auror. In Munich he had been as well known as a celebrity at only twenty-six. His track record as an auror was flawless. Hermione knew it and for that she respected him.

Things had changed a lot in the last three years. She did not return to Hogwarts for an eighth year, as many of her classmates had. She only had to sit for her final year exams in order to graduate from Hogwarts. She then immediately began working at the Ministry of Magic as a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She worked closely with the Auror Office, of which Harry and Ron were part. All three had gained great recognition after the second Wizarding War when Harry had finally finished off Voldemort, restoring peace to the Wizarding World.

"How are you, Hermione?" Scholz greeted her.

It still seemed strange to her that he addressed her by her name. It took her some time to get used to doing it too, it seemed almost disrespectful to talk like that to her boss. She was used to keeping a certain distance from everyone in the Ministry.

Still, she recognized that Scholz's youth was a good enough reason for him to feel that he could be friends with her. After all, Hermione was recognized as one of the best witches in the entire UK.

"I am well, thank you," she replied. "And how are you doing Mr. Scholz?"

John looked up for a moment, about to ask her —once again— to call him John, but he decided against it. He smiled softly and let it go. Scholz was handsome, really handsome. He had blond hair, dark eyes, and an oval face with a perfect, well-groomed beard. Hermione knew he was tall, although most of the time she only saw him sitting in his office chair. She walked over to him and Scholz handed her an envelope.

"I'm fine too. Here you go, Hermione, it's the newest addition of PROFSDAR."

She grabbed the envelope, nodding. She had heard that it would be her job to take care of the rehabilitation of a former Death Eater and she had slept very little that night, imagining what it would be like to help another former Death Eater rejoin the magical community

"Who?" She asked.

"A young boy," Scholz replied. "The project comes from the Auror Office, it was supposed to be Potter’s responsibility but I'm afraid he has managed to get rid of it. He said that he did not think it was appropriate to be his guardian on the project."

Hermione clicked her tongue. Harry was usually the most professional person at his job, what happened to him to reject such a project? She had to admit that neither he nor Ron had much desire to participate in PROFSDAR, the animosity they felt towards the Death Eaters was greater than the faith they had that rehabilitation was possible. Hermione was different: she believed that some former Death Eaters could change, she firmly believed that. But she knew that there were very few who could do it and even fewer who deserved a chance to try.

She opened the envelope silently. What could be so serious that Harry would have rejected the case? She was not too happy to do work that was not originally intended for her.

She pulled the first paper out the envelope and a chill ran through her. It was a photo, a photo that she would recognize at any time in her life, even if fifty years had passed. That blonde hair, those cold gray eyes… Draco had dark circles and an expression of utter apathy in that photograph, as if he had been forced to take it. And Hermione suspected that it had been.

"He's some Draco Malfoy boy, do you know him?" Scholz asked, then he continued speaking. "He is the son of Lucius Malfoy… yes, I have heard of them. They were _a thing_ _to see_ during the war, or so I have been told."

Scholz had only arrived a year ago, so he had only been able to hear gossip or read newspaper articles to understand the reality of the Malfoys. That wouldn't be enough, he hadn't been there, he'd never know what a Malfoy really was before the war.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, barely hearing Scholz's voice, who kept talking about the few things he knew about one of the most important pureblood wizarding families, at least until three years ago. And she couldn't believe it, she had to be the one to help Draco Malfoy. Precisely her.

It took her several seconds to be able to speak, and when she did, she interrupted Scholz, though she didn't even realise she had just done it.

"Harry knew the case would come to me?" She asked.

Because if Potter knew… she swore he was going to find out…

"Of course not. He just turned it down, but Draco Malfoy could have been assigned to anyone in the Security Department, there are dozens of options available." Scholz noticed something was troubling the witch's mind and narrowed his eyes. "Is there a problem, Hermione? Something happens?"

Yes, there was a problem. That helping Malfoy wasn't an option, it never had been. But she couldn't do what Harry had done before: reject him. What if everyone, one by one, refused to treat Malfoy? Scholz would probably think they were a bunch of incompetent aurors who didn't have the guts to face Malfoy, who had only been a kid during the war. A Death Eater, yes, but also a kid.

Draco Malfoy was one of those guys who stood right on the line between deserving a chance to remain in society and deserving a life sentence in Azkaban. But which one would tilt the scales?

"No, it's fine," she replied. "I'll take Malfoy’s case."

She couldn't even believe that she really had just said that, that those words had left her mouth. Did she feel pity for Malfoy? If no one wanted to take his case, that wasn't her problem... but she, in a way, felt compelled to accept it.

She wasn't in this job to get involved with Death Eaters that she liked. She did it to ensure that there was a chance that some of these people could rehabilitate. Hermione strongly believed in second chances. That is why she had decided to enter the Security Department.

"Good luck, Hermione."

She managed to fake a smile and, focusing on walking without hesitation, Hermione took Draco Malfoy's envelope between her fingers and walked out of Scholz’s office. She tried to take a deep breath and got on one of the elevators that took her to the penultimate floor of the Ministry: Communications with Azkaban.

Hermione Granger walked down the dark, empty corridor of the Ministry. The floor was black and shiny, perfectly clean. Hardly anyone went up to that floor, who would need to communicate with Azkaban? There were no people working in that jail, just dementors. A small handful of officials could go sporadically to Azkaban to leave prisoners there, to grant an important visit or, as in this case, to free someone.

It didn't usually happen, few people left Azkaban. Perhaps because many lost their minds and died right there. Hermione flipped through the documents Scholz had given her. She read some important facts: Draco Malfoy, born in 1980, sentenced to three years in the magical Azkaban prison for practicing dark magic, performing Unforgivable Curses, being part of the Death Eater organization... the list was huge, reflecting every little crime he had ever committed. She knew them all without having to read that paper. She had known him since they were children, almost from the first time she had discovered there was magic inside of her.

She made it to the end of the hall, then opened the last door. She entered the room and it was obvious that they had already been waiting there for a few minutes. This illustrious and spacious room was the only room in the entire Ministry of Magic where someone could apparate to and from Azkaban. The only spot that connected both places, as if they were the two ends of a long thread.

She first noticed the official accompanying him, first of all. She didn't feel ready to see him.

"Ferdinand…" she greeted.

Ferdinand nodded politely.

"Miss Granger."

And then she knew she couldn't put it off any longer. A few seconds was the only time she had been able to gain. Hermione took a deep breath and she turned her head towards Draco Malfoy. What she found surprised her as much as if she had suddenly found someone else there instead of Draco Malfoy. And, in a way, it was like that. That tall white figure was very slim, much slimmer than he had been three years ago. She kept her eyes on the Azkaban's uniform, which Hermione did not approve of at all. It seemed to her that those clothes dehumanized the prisoners of Azkaban: the jumpsuit was so old that it seemed that the striped suit had been in use since the very year the prison was built. She was afraid to get to his face, really afraid. What was she going to find there?

She swallowed hard as she moved her eyes upward. She saw a light, ragged beard, almost as white as his hair. It wasn't long, but she had never seen Draco Malfoy with a beard and that was not what she expected to see. His hair was slightly longer than it had been three years ago, touching his chin, straight and tousled. His face was still symmetrical and angular, although his cheekbones were much more pronounced than before, due to the thinness, and he had deep dark circles. His eyes were the same as ever: gray, cold, insensitive. Cruel

She could see in Malfoy's eyes the same surprise that, no doubt, she had reflected on her face a few minutes before, after receiving the news that he would be the Death Eater she would have to help. That surprise took several seconds to fade, but it finally did, and his eyes ended up looking as uninterested as they used to look during his years at Hogwarts: as if nothing mattered and nothing had any effect on him.

"I must go," Ferdinand announced. "Do you want me to remove the handcuffs, Miss Granger?"

Hermione noticed those magical handcuffs that binded Draco's wrists, looking like a million of bright white threads. It was terrible, it seemed like an unnecessary torture but all the Department officials who came to Azkaban frequently placed them on all the prisoners, as if they were afraid not to. Draco Malfoy had just been released on a conditional basis, of course he shouldn’t have to remain handcuffed like a prisoner.

"Yes, yes, please," she said quickly.

The man held his wand and looked at Draco with some sort of warning on his face, as if Draco was going to rebel against two members of the Ministry's Department of Magical Security. Hermione found herself wondering if that could ever happen, maybe Malfoy was crazy enough to do something like that.

The reality was that, after three years, she no longer knew anything about him. Absolutely nothing.

Who had Draco Malfoy become?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you very soon!! Thanks a lot to starcrossreylo, esterlita, louann0217, ditte3, lilliangoes and Aryvel for your reviews/comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kaybaybay_ss for her help as a beta!!

_Chapter 3_

_'Cause I can promise if you knew me / You would probably walk away._

Anson Seabra - I can't carry this anymore

DRACO

Really? What the hell had Hermione Granger become? Draco refused to believe it. She was part of the Auror Office?

Of course. Fuck. How could he have doubted it for a second? It was clear that those PROFSDAR bastards not only wanted to make life more difficult for him, they also wanted to humiliate him and the rest of the former Death Eaters. Sure, because he hadn’t got enough after living three years of hell in Azkaban, he had to depend on Hermione Granger now that he finally had gotten his freedom back. As if he was going to run away or something. Did they really consider him dangerous still? The worst thing Draco Malfoy could do at that moment was to run to one of the Ministry windows and to jump from it. Sure, that would scandalize Hermione Granger. He almost smiled at that thought.

He tried to take his mind off of it. He thought too much about dying lately, more than usual. Anyone would have thought he had a problem.

Ferdinand gave him a stupid look when he removed the spell from those fire cuffs. As soon as his hands were free Draco was quick to rub his wrists with his fingers, sighing in relief. Granger's eyes went to the myriad of marks on his hands, old burns. Some of them had been caused by himself while trying to escape from his small cell in Azkaban. Those burning glass doors had been a fucking nightmare. He noticed that the marks were disturbing her, so he didn't hesitate to roll up his sleeve even more to show her more scars on his skin. He almost enjoyed it when she widened her eyes, scared. He almost enjoyed it, yes, but he didn't get to do it. Draco Malfoy no longer enjoyed anything.

"I'm going then. Good luck, Miss Granger."

She was going to need it, indeed. In that he had to agree with Ferdinand.

"Thank you."

She was always so polite, so elegant, despite being a mudblood. Who was she trying to impress? She didn't have to put on any tricks in front of him, it was humiliating enough having to depend on her. It was more than he could have ever imagined. It was such a masterful, sarcastic twist of fate that he almost found it funny… as well as disgusting. Would he have to be trained by Granger as if he was a rabbit?

"Welcome to PROFSDAR," she said, and Draco didn't miss the evident tremor in her voice.

Again, Draco kind of wanted to smile. He understood that she was nervous, maybe she didn't enjoy being there, humiliating him. But she would soon.

He decided not to answer.

"Well, I think introductions are not necessary, but…" Hermione continued, "I don't like skipping protocol. I am Hermione Granger, a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Brigade. I will be your guardian during this rehabilitation and reintegration program to the Magical Society."

He just looked at her. He didn't nod his head, he didn't even blink more than a few times. Draco stood in front of her with his usual bored expression, silently. Hermione had changed in recent times. She was twenty-two years old and, although she had not grown taller at all, her face was not childish anymore. It was strange to say, but right there in front of him, Hermione Granger was a woman. Her curly brown hair was longer than ever, it looped in messy ringlets, down to her waist. She looked like she had combed her hair, or at least she had tried. That was not the Hermione Granger he knew. She was wearing her usual muggle clothing: a red shirt and black pants, somewhat more formal than the jeans he had seen her in a thousand times during his teens. She had changed, Hermione Granger was very different now. Her once innocent gaze seemed to radiate strength and courage. Perhaps that was why she had dared to take a case like his.

Draco didn't give a shit, of course. Granger could take all the effort to "get him back into society" and stuff it, he didn't care. Society was precisely the last thing he wanted to belong to.

"I'm glad you chose to participate in this program, really."

Hermione watched him, as if she was trying to get a word out of him, whatever it was. Maybe she was expecting a ‘thank you’. Just thinking about it already made him laugh. Or, better yet, an "I'm sorry." HA-HA. Can you imagine it? Draco Malfoy asking for forgiveness? Surely Rita Skeeter would have wanted to write about something like that, attaching a photo of what he looked like at that point. Draco didn't have any mirrors, it was true, but he didn't need to be a bloody genius to know that he looked bad, _veeery bad._ That he looked like any tramp in Knockturn Alley. That he looked just like Weasley in the worst of his days.

"May I go now?" He asked.

And he didn't know if Hermione seemed relieved that he had spoken or angered by such a stupid question.

"No," she replied, "I will accompany you to the PROFSDAR Residence, where you will live for the next four months until..."

Fuck. There she was again, another endless speech of data and details that were irrelevant to him. He just wanted to go out and see the sun, watch the sky one last fucking time. He didn't care what happened after. Seriously, as if the world was exploding with him on it, he didn't care about anything.

"Are you listening to me, Malfoy?"

"Yes. "

He proceeded to ignore her again. Hermione spoke, explaining rule after rule, just as she had memorized them. And every word from her was more superfluous to him than the one before. Draco didn't even bother to pretend that he was listening to her. Not even that. It took her a couple of minutes to shut up. Granger was proving herself to be the same annoying shrew she had been when she was a teenager. What had he done to deserve that? OK, maybe he had been a Death Eater.

"Follow me, we'll go to the Residence."

Hermione turned her back on him and opened the door, urging him to follow her. He knew that if she turned her back on him so quickly, it was because she had no fear that he might attack her and catch her off guard. She, after all, had her wand, and besides, she was exceptional at magic duels. Draco didn't stand a chance against her and he knew it.

He focused on thinking about the sky. He would see it soon. What colour would it be? What time was it? He didn't care. He just wanted to see the sky, take a deep breath and look up to the clouds at the same time. Just as a reminder that he had left Azkaban, that he was alive… even though he didn't want to be. Draco didn't quite understand the inner workings of his thoughts or his brain, he just let them flow.

They walked down the black hallway, which Draco didn't find very pleasant. It resembled Azkaban although it was a much cleaner and more sophisticated place. Azkaban was like a black cave, whereas the Ministry was… a dark _palace_.

Hermione opened a door and he stepped through behind her. Her expression suddenly became completely serious. She walked over to him and touched his shoulder without him expecting it. A moment later, they disappeared from the Ministry. Draco almost screamed when the ground seemed to be lifted and he floated for an instant. He realised that that room was dedicated solely to serving as a place from which wizards would apparate to somewhere else. He realised too late that he had lost his opportunity to see the sky there, the only thing he longed for. He cursed Granger under his breath, it was her fault he couldn't do it anymore. Suddenly he found himself in a strange place: bright, yet dim, with brown carpeted floors. Draco imagined that this was the Residence he would have to live in from that moment on. He hadn't paid attention to that part, if he had to be honest. He figured they would give him back his freedom, with some restrictions, but… living in some kind of hotel for Death Eaters? That looked a lot like Azkaban, actually.

No. No. He forced himself to correct that thought. Nothing resembled Azkaban, not even hell.

"This is the Residence," Hermione introduced without meeting his eyes.

"Damn," he growled.

"What?"

And Draco spun around, staring at the nearly empty room with desperation in his eyes. Where were the windows? THERE WERE NO WINDOWS!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The only thing he had wanted, the only fucking thing he wanted, was to see the sky. Even if it was a minute, even if it was a second. And Hermione Granger had taken that possibility from him by forcing him to apparate right there with her. Draco took a deep breath and tried to apparate on the street, anywhere. He tried twice, but he failed. His body trembled, contorted and disapparated for just an instant... but he apparated in that same place immediately with a deep moan escaping from his lips. Granger knew what he was doing, of course she did, and her huge brown eyes widened. In just a moment, she was already aiming her wand at him.

"Stop!" She commanded, "you can't leave, it is forbidden, you are not allowed to!"

He tried one more time, even though he knew he was not going to be able to make it. His body dematerialized and he slammed back again. It hurt him to do so, a physical and a mental pain. It wasn't natural for something —or someone— to hold their magic back. That could cause irreparable damage to a wizard.

"Stop," Hermione Granger demanded once more.

Malfoy watched her with defiance in his gray eyes. He knew what she was thinking of him: that he seemed different, a defeated man, thin and emaciated. He was aware… but he was still Draco Malfoy, he never had stopped being that.

He didn't try to leave again and several seconds passed until Hermione lowered her wand, putting it back into her pocket.

"It is stated in the safety regulations that you will not be able to perform magic until your wand is returned to you in four months..." She explained. "And the apparition... you will have to wait a year to get that back. Can you tell me what in the world were you thinking?"

 _I want to see the sky,_ Draco answered in his mind.

He said nothing. He knew Granger would take it as a provocation.

"Malfoy," she said, and this time her voice didn't seem to be reading the damned pre-made dialogue from the PROFSDAR guardians. This time she seemed to be herself, "I'll send you back to Azkaban without hesitation. I swear."

And Malfoy's disgusted facial expression grew.

"Do whatever you want, Granger. Do you think I care?"

He took her by surprise. Obviously, she wasn't expecting it, but she still made a proud gesture. That damn expression he'd seen on Miss Granger for years. Damn Mudblood.

"You're going to get yourself in trouble," she whispered.

And, surprisingly, she left him alone. Yes, she shut up. Hermione walked several meters until she reached some reception desk that seemed empty. She rang a little bell and shortly after a witch dressed in a shimmering purple robe appeared there. Hermione and the witch began to speak, completely ignoring his presence; although, from time to time, Draco heard his name in that conversation.

How the hell could there be no windows in there? Was it done as some kind of torture for Death Eaters? Something like: _"We condemn you to never see the sun again, not even after leaving Azkaban, you bastard."_ Those aurors were even worse than he realised.

It took several minutes until Hermione approached him again. Now she was holding a key between her fingers.

"Your room is on the fourth floor. It's number 56." She handed him his key with a cold expression on her sweet face.

He was almost amused to see her like this, playing tough. He knew Hermione Granger, he could still break her if he wanted.

"And what do I have to do? Should I remain locked there, as if it were another cell?"

"No," she answered firmly, "of course not! You can leave your room... as long as you stick to the established schedule. You will have to go to some therapy and, of course, you will share rehabilitation sessions with me. I will supervise you."

Could someone kill him now, please? He didn't care that it was a painful death, he just needed Hermione Granger to shut her mouth at once. He remained silent, staring at the ground until that know-it-all snapped her fingers in front of him, as if wanting to get his attention.

"Malfoy!" She exclaimed "Are you listening to me?"

"No."

Granger wrinkled her nose.

"Haven't you read the PROFSDAR rules yet? You cannot have accepted them without reading them first."

"I wasn’t able to find them in the Azkaban library," he murmured with some sarcasm.

"Oh… well," she whispered, "I'll get you a copy of the document."

Was this girl dumb? He was about to put his hands on her shoulders, shake her, and yell, _‘What fucking Azkaban library, Granger?!’_ There was nothing in that prison but torture, cold and… darkness. Mostly darkness. Draco went back to looking for a window in the great room; there was not a single crack there that communicated with the outside.

She pointed to some white stairs that led to the upper floors of the Residence.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at ten in the morning." You have to sign here every time you enter and exit the building, otherwise you will not be allowed to leave," she pointed out her finger to a huge book located to the right of the stairs and attached to a marble lectern. A feather floated around the pages, waiting to be picked up. "If a signature is missing from the book, you may be inspected and returned to Azkaban."

He bit his tongue to keep from saying what, unequivocally, he was thinking. ‘ _At least in Azkaban I wouldn't have to listen to you_.’ Then he remembered that in Azkaban he would not listen to anyone. To nobody. A chill ran through him as Draco nodded and walked over to that book. He took the pen between his fingers and pressed it against the paper, realizing that he hadn't written anything in the last three years. His fingers still remembered how to do it and his elegant handwriting came naturally:

_Draco Malfoy_

She looked at him, mildly satisfied.

"Well, I’ll see you tomorrow at ten in the morning," she repeated.

 _Maybe in your dreams, Granger_. He said in his mind. He didn't answer anything out loud. Then he went upstairs, feeling strange. As soon as he lost sight of Hermione Granger he realised that he was alone, finally he was alone. He was not locked in a small dark cell like in Azkaban, but he was… ‘free’. He went up to the second floor, still confused, not quite sure what to do. He was looking around, but there were no windows. Was he underground? He was surprised when he reached that conclusion; even more so when he realised that, indeed, that must be the reason why there was not a single connection with the outside world. They were underground because the famous Residence was just another jail, designed to keep Death Eaters away from the real world and to keep them captive.

Draco tiredly made it to the fourth floor. He wasn't used to walking so much in one day, he hadn't done it for years. Room 56 was at the end of the hall with a simple brown door. He had never lived in such a simple place... until now. Although, to be honest, he knew he wouldn't be there long. Hopefully he would leave that same day.

He opened the wooden door with some difficulty. The lock was old and the key was a copy of another copy. He had to make a couple of tries before he got inside, as the metal didn't seem to fit very well in the lock. The room smelled stuffy, but it was clean he had to admit. And, of course, it had no windows.

"Damn," he whispered once more.

The furniture was simple: a double bed with salmon-colored sheets —Draco wrinkled his nose at that sight, they looked like Weasley's grandmother's curtains— it also had a desk with several empty scrolls, and a quill and an inkwell on the right. That was all. It was nice of them, although he did not intend to use it. Next to the wall he could see a wooden table with a vase of red flowers. What kind of cheesy shit was that? Draco sighed, walking past it. It was then that he came to a plain white door. He opened it and, just as he imagined, he came to a small bathroom that had only a toilet and a small shower. What he felt this time was… almost emotion. Hygiene in Azkaban was not an important thing, he did not even remember the last time he had been able to bathe. It had been a long time since he had even smelled himself, he felt like a wild animal.

It didn't take long for him to undress. If there was something he needed it was to be able to shower, to clean himself at least once. He hadn't known how much he wanted it until that shower had appeared before him.

He was about to step foot into the white shower tray when something caught his attention. For an instant, just one, he believed someone else was there, watching him. He was startled, but it was not long before he realised that this suspicious figure moved at the same time as him, turned at the same time as he did and... looked at him with familiar gray eyes: it was his own reflection.

His body was thin, more than he could have ever imagined: his bones seemed to stick to the skin in a rather unpleasant way and he was dirty. He was disgusting. His porcelain-white skin bore all kinds of marks: from dirt to bumps, burns, scars... what the hell had happened to him?

Azkaban had happened to him.

Draco took a couple more steps, moving closer to the mirror to inspect his face. He had fucking grown up. As if both three and five hundred years had passed at a time. His eyes were sad but he wasn't surprised, he was sad too. His eyes went hopelessly to that Dark Mark drawn on his left forearm. It was black, as always, although it was somewhat deformed and its lines were not as clear as they had once been: Draco Malfoy had received many burns on that mark. The unmistakable shape of the skull and the snake was still distinguishable, although it seemed that someone had wanted to rip it from his skin without succeeding on the task.

His entire body caused him a mix of fear, disgust, and grief. He didn't feel like himself anymore. Draco brushed his platinum blonde hair back with his fingers. It was tangled and dirty, but he would soon be out of it. Sighing, he got into that shower and turned on the hot water to the maximum, feeling that it burned him just seconds later but he did nothing to stop it. He needed to clean himself, clean himself thoroughly.

He stared at the dirt leaving his body and began to rub as hard as he could with a bar of soap. Soon, his whole body was so red as if someone was boiling him, but he did not stop rubbing furiously. After more than half an hour under the tap the hot water seemed to run out and an icy storm fell on him, but Draco didn't get out of the shower. He stayed there as long as possible, so long that for him it felt like a thousand long hours.

When the bar of soap was gone, the boy sat on the floor of the shower, with the water still falling on him. Finally, he began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter!! I will post new chapters soon :) This is a longfic and maaaaaany things will happen but I don't really like rushing things up, so it all will come!! See you soon!


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

_How long does it take? / To fix something I didn't break._

Vi - Wait

HERMIONE

She couldn't concentrate. She read the same document fifteen times before leaving it on her desk, giving up completely.

Draco Malfoy. Really, Fate?

If she had known, if she had had the slightest suspicion that he would be her project in PROFSDAR, she would have asked for a holiday for the whole month. Really, she wouldn't have minded rehabilitating anyone, anyone! But not Malfoy. It was the worst option, the most terrible luck.

Hermione got up from her nice chair and walked to the kitchen of her flat, located a few minutes walk from the Ministry of Magic in London. She had been living there for only a couple of months, but she liked the place, it was a good home. She started heating water to make some tea, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Had it already been three years since the end of the war? It was crazy. Where had all that time gone? She hadn't even noticed it passing. Crookshanks rubbed his fluffy body on her legs as Hermione dropped the little black tea bag into the water. The cat meowed for food.

"You've already eaten, Crooks…" she whispered softly.

She still didn't believe her misfortune. Hermione planned to talk to Harry, but, at the same time, she couldn't really blame him. Of course he wouldn't want to rehabilitate Draco Malfoy, who would want to do it? He had been one of his greatest enemies throughout his life, for ten years now. No, Hermione understood Harry. She wondered if she too should have rejected his case. Malfoy didn't seem to have changed at all, rather he was as undesirable and arrogant as always...

But she felt sorry for him at the same time. She found him to be incredibly thin and depressed. There were no words to describe the impression he had made on her; one of the most attractive wizards she had ever seen seemed to have been reduced to a walking corpse. As if instead of ending the war three years earlier, for Draco Malfoy the war had only just begun.

"Do you think I should be sorry?" She asked Crookshanks as she poured a small jug of cold milk over her tea. "Malfoy was very cruel to us during school, right?"

"Meow," the cat replied.

"Yes, I know… but he doesn't seem sorry. You should have seen him. Instead of only three years it seems like... twenty years passed."

She took a sip of her tea, it was too hot. She crouched down and poured the rest of the milk into one of Crookshanks' food bowls. The cat dug his tongue into the snack happily.

Since the war ended, a total of ten Death Eaters had left Azkaban. They had gone through PROFSDAR to regain their freedom. Some of them had only spent a few months living in the Residence, but their physical condition after leaving prison had been much better than Malfoy's. All of them had been rehabilitated over time. She couldn't say they were model citizens in the Wizarding Community, but they weren't bad either. Most of them had retired to rural areas of Great Britain to live more peacefully as there was still a certain animosity towards them. No former Death Eaters had fallen back into the dark arts so far as the aurors made sure of that.

Hermione wondered if she herself should have stayed in the Auror Office with Ron and Harry. Aurors were intrepid and adventurous, they were always hunting down some evildoer and looking out for the welfare of the Wizarding Community... but that life was way too violent for her. That was why Hermione had transferred to the Magical Law Enforcement Brigade. She was better at paperwork and quieter cases, not so much the constant hustle and bustle of chasing dark wizards down.

She sat with the tea in her hands and looked back at Draco Malfoy's case files once more. He had been three years locked in Azkaban, and now that when he was finally released, he seemed to not give a damn.

 _"What the hell are you thinking, Draco Malfoy"_ She asked in a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting chapter 5 soon as this one was really short :)  
> Can't wait to share more with you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kaybaybay_ss for her help :)

_Chapter 5_

_I'm afraid of all I am, / my mind feels like a foreign land._

Duncan Laurence - Arcade

DRACO

When he finished shaving, his reflection seemed much more familiar. He was Draco again, yet at the same time there was something about his face that would never be like it was before. What was it? He was thinner, yes, but his eyebrows were the same, his angular jaw, his silver eyes, and his symmetrical full lips. Being able to finally brush his teeth had been a catharsis and Draco felt cleaner than ever on the outside. Even though was still rotten on the inside.

He came out of the bathroom naked, not caring that someone would see him. Perhaps there were enchantments to watch him… well, surely there were. But he didn't care. He went to the small closet in the room and he realised that it was full of clothes his size. That was good, since he had no magic to adjust the measurements, especially now that he was so thin but remained very tall.

He put on underwear, black pants and a shirt of the same colour. His blonde hair, too long now, had almost dried and it annoyed him. He brushed it from his face brusquely. He would have to cut it, it was a nuisance... then he reconsidered: Why did it matter? He was going to die anyway.

A clock on top of the bed informed him that it was nine o'clock. He knew that it would be night time, as it probably hadn’t been that long since he had seen Granger. She had made it clear that they would see each other at ten in the morning of the following day. So yes, it was nine at night. Time to go.

He needed a wand. He didn't know where he could get it from, he would have to get it somehow illegally. He could steal it from someone, yes, but he’d be taking the risk that the wand would not obey him. The smart thing to do was to buy a wand in Knockturn Alley because, of course, no one would sell a wand to Draco Malfoy in Diagon Alley. How could he do it without any money? He didn't know yet, something would come to his mind on his way to magical London. He didn't even know where the bloody Residence was. As far as he knew, he could be on an island in Wales without realising it… but no. He must be in London. The Ministry did not like to take their eye off their pets. 

He left the room and went down the stairs to the hall where he had left Hermione Granger. His blood boiled every time he remembered her, surely at that moment Granger was in her house touching herself thinking that she could finally abuse him and treat him as she wanted. Yes, for sure that made her horny. The mental picture of Granger jerking off at his expense angered him and he tried to push her out of his mind. Draco wrote his name in the damn guest book that controlled access to the Residence. It was then that the same woman behind that reception counter who had spoken to Granger earlier spotted him and ran over towards him.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing?" She asked.

He cleared his throat before speaking, even so, his voice was too husky. It still seemed strange to him… as if he was not himself.

"I'm going out."

A stupid smile settled on that red-haired woman's freckled face. On her purple robe there was a small name tag that said ‘Sophie W.’

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Malfoy," she explained, "you can only access the outside from nine in the morning to nine at night. And it's already five past nine now."

He clicked his tongue.

"I thought I had been given freedom."

"On probation," she added.

He was about to push her away. Hit her, steal her wand, and get out of there as soon as possible, even if he had no idea where to run. He was really close to doing it, but a new figure appeared in the hall and he recognized her instantly. The blonde girl hadn't changed one bit and she came running up to him.

"Draco…" she said in a slight cry when she held him close to her.

"Astoria?" He asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," she reported, "I knew you would be released today, I've been... waiting for you, asking everyone if someone had seen you."

Astoria was one of the few people who had always been close to him, without any hidden interest, without ulterior motives. Astoria Greengrass was proud, brave, and good. He had always wondered how she had ended up in Slytherin and the only explanation he could find was that her entire family had been in Slytherin before her: her parents, and both her siblings: Daphne and Paul ...

"Mr. Malfoy wants to leave the Residence, I have explained to him that it is not possible," Sophie interrupted.

If he had had a wand in his hand, he would have cursed an Unforgivable at her. Sophie had no idea how lucky she was being that day.

"I need to get out," he insisted.

"I told you it is past curfew," Sophie growled. "Besides, Miss Granger has not given us any authorization for you to move outside freely."

He would have killed them just to see the sky for two seconds, both that Sophie woman and stupid Granger. Astoria saw in his eyes that something was wrong and she decided to intervene, turning to Sophie:

"Sophie, I'll take care of him. Alright? You go back to the office, please. Hillton brought a package of teacakes and he told me we can eat as many as we want... "

The red-haired woman's face lit up when she heard that, although she gave Draco a nasty look, it was clear that she didn't trust him a bit. It took her a moment to decide that teacakes were a more palatable idea than standing there with those two. With a nod, she walked away, her chunky heels tapping on the floor as she left.

Then Astoria hugged him, knowing they were finally alone. She pressed him against her chest and sobbed as she did so. She felt like someone who had spent years without seeing a family member. Draco didn't move, he didn't do anything, he just waited.

"I've been so worried about you," she said. "Have you seen my brother?"

Truth be told: yes, he had seen him. Paul Greengrass still had to serve a sentence of several more years in Azkaban for the murder of Fred Weasley. At the same time, his sentence had been slightly lessened by his collaboration with the Auror Office, by revealing some valuable information that had triggered their winning the final battle. Although he had killed the Weasley twin on Lord Voldemort's order, Paul Greengrass was a traitor to both sides, he could not be considered to be a part of either.

"No, I haven't seen him," he lied.

He wasn't going to tell Astoria the truth, that would break her heart. He had seen Paul Greengrass a couple of times and the young man had seemed so gaunt, as finished as if he were already dead. He preferred not to be honest with Astoria, she didn't deserve it.

She couldn't hide the obvious disappointment on her face. She had hoped that her friend could give her some information, no matter how small, about her brother's condition.

"Oh, that is a shame…" she whispered.

"Astoria, I need you to help me get out of here."

The idea struck the girl with fury and she widened her blue eyes when she heard it. How the hell was she going to do that?

"What?" She asked, "of course not, Draco. I cannot! You have to wait for Granger to clear you out. By the way, you've had great luck getting her as your guardian." Astoria walked over to him and whispered in his ear. "I have been told that you were originally assigned to Potter, but that he rejected the case."

Draco raised an eyebrow at this. He imagined that Granger had stood up with pride, saying, "I volunteer to be Malfoy's guardian, I will sacrifice myself for all of you by taking charge." He almost wanted to throw up. Damn Granger, so perfect she was ridiculous.

"Luck? It seems more like a curse."

His friend shook her head.

"What? Not at all! Granger is the best, there was never a doubt about it." A somehow wry smile crossed her face. "I mean, as if it is a surprise; she was always like this."

Like this? A fucking pain in the arse? Draco clicked his tongue, deciding not to let his mouth speak all his thoughts.

"Astoria, please. Help me out."

"Don't even dream of it, Draco! If they find you out there they will take you to Azkaban again, they don't mess around here."

"They won't find me."

Astoria raised a blonde eyebrow, it was so light that it seemed almost invisible. Her blue eyes narrowed.

"They won’t? Draco, I say this for your sake. You can't get out until they let you!"

"And when will that be?"

Astoria shrugged.

"I do not know. It can take days, or weeks. But it will come, you just have to behave yourself and do whatever Granger asks you to do."

Yes, of course, to be Granger's lapdog and obey her in whatever way she wanted. Of-fucking-course, Of-Fucking-course-NOT! He shook his head effusively.

"I'm not going to do it. I'm serious, Astoria, please. Help me, just tonight, just today."

"Draco, I told you that... "

"Let me visit my mother's grave!" His voice sounded pleading and Astoria fell silent when she heard it. "I swear I only need to do it today, just once. See her grave and come back here, I'm not asking for anything more. It will take an hour at most. And I swear to you that afterwards I will behave well, I will do whatever I am told to."

There was something in his voice, a pain that Astoria had never heard in a man before. And now she was hearing it in Draco Malfoy. He was her friend, one of the people she had loved the most since she was a child. Draco had always been so confident in himself, so outstanding that she had always admired him because of that. Astoria had never before imagined him begging someone... and now he was begging her.

"Okay…" she whispered, she couldn’t believe she was doing it.

Malfoy smiled and, for an instant, he was the same old Draco. Smiling, happy... except that now he wasn't smiling happily, rather the opposite. He was smiling with something painful in his eyes, something beyond sadness or hatred.

"Thanks, Astoria. You are a good friend."

She sighed. She was going to break the rules for him, risk her job and, worst of all, risk the possibility that he might return to Azkaban. But she felt compelled to do so. Draco was asking her for the opportunity to say goodbye to his mother, something he hadn't been able to do three years before, as he had been detained and taken to Azkaban immediately.

"You must come back in an hour. Not a minute later."

"Deal."

Astoria sighed. She then walked with him to the door of the Residence and took her wand out of her pocket. Draco eyed her for an instant, fixing her gaze on her. He could steal Astoria's wand, yes, that was a possibility… so he wouldn't have a problem finding another one outside. But he wasn't going to do that, not to her. She was his friend, and while few things were worth anything to Draco Malfoy anymore, the handful people he loved did.

Astoria pointed at the ceiling.

 _"Tenebro,"_ she whispered.

All the lights went out suddenly.

"No one can see us now," she explained in a whisper. "Go up the stone stairs as fast as you can. Then, once you have gone outside, turn right to go to the Main Cemetery, where they buried your mother. It is not far from here."

"Hear you. I know where it is"

"On the right!" She repeated, "you'll find it easily."

"Thank you," he whispered. And he truly felt it.

Looking at her once more in the gloom, Draco Malfoy ran out of that hall and onto some ascending stone stairs that would lead him to the outside. He was coming up fast, as fast as his legs allowed, but he seemed miles below the surface. It took him several minutes to get to the top step, and when he finally did, Draco found that the Residence was hidden under a spell. At first glance, for any Muggle, the place looked like any other tube station that nobody entered throughout the day. As soon as they passed by, they remembered that there was a bus that would take them to their destination much faster than the tube.

Draco drew in a breath, the deepest breath he had ever taken. And finally he looked up at the black sky of the night. Some people stared at him, passing around him, but he ignored them all. There it was, finally. He had gotten out, he was on the street. And the sky was so beautiful that he wanted to cry. He stood there for several seconds, feeling the cold humidity of the city caressing his face. It took a moment to lower his head, deciding firmly what he should do.

Then, without hesitation, Draco Malfoy knew he had to get going. Decidedly, he turned left and ran.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks a lot to Kayla!! <3

_Chapter 6_

_You tell me you hate me. / Baby, yeah, I bet you do._

Halsey & Machine Gun Kelly – Forget me too

HERMIONE

It was midnight when an owl knocked on her window. She had not yet fallen asleep, although she normally would have been sleeping by that time. Draco Malfoy’s kept coming back to her mind over and over again, she couldn’t think about anything different than the certainty that it was not going to go well, that nothing could go right when it was about Malfoy.

She got out of bed quickly and walked to her window. Something bad had to have happened, why else would someone send her a letter that late at night? Hermione leaned against the window and managed to open it, pushing the lift up. The white owl seemed to greet her and hooted softly. She did not recognize who the owner was.

"What is it, precious?" Hermione whispered.

Hanging from one of its legs, the owl carried a small roll of paper. It was barely the size of a finger and she grabbed it easily. As if it was not waiting for an answer, the animal leapt to the window again and flew off getting lost in the dark London night. Hermione frowned when she opened that message:

_Please, Hermione, come to the Residence as soon as possible. It is urgent._

_Astoria G._

Malfoy. It had to be Malfoy. Shit! What could he have done now? Hermione jumped over the bed and reached her closet, from there she pulled out a pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt that she put on in seconds. Of course he had done something, of course! What she didn't understand was why it was Astoria who had contacted her. If Malfoy had made a mess, the aurors would already be in the Residence and one of her friends would have rang the alarm, not Astoria.

In the last year, strange as it was, Astoria and Hermione's relationship had grown closer. During school it was non-existent but ever since Astoria had started working at the PROFSDAR Residence, they had also started to talk. Of anything, of nonsense sometimes. They even had a couple of butterbeers together at Diagon Alley after work. Hermione could almost consider Astoria to be her friend, especially now that Ginny spent most of her time training with the Holyhead Harpies; being a professional quidditch player didn't leave her much free time.

"Meow," Crookshanks said, approaching his owner.

"I have to go, Crooks," Hermione replied, grabbing her green jacket.

She ran off, interrupting the next meow from her cat and making sure to have her wand inside her pocket. Hermione Granger went out into the cold London night not knowing what the hell was about to happen next.

***

It did not take her long to arrive at the Residence, but she had to walk with eyes wide open. It was not possible to apparate inside the building unless she did it from the Ministry, and Hermione did not want to raise any suspicions so she decided to just walk. She raced down the nearly four hundred stairs, which equalled about twenty stories in a building. Some homeless muggles would try to spend the night at that tube station at night, and it wasn't until they had descended a hundred or two hundred stairs that they would finally give up and climbed back up to the surface of London. The Residence was to remain secret so it was important for the Ministry to keep muggles away from the premises.

The familiar brown carpet was the first thing she saw when she reached the ground floor of the Residence. Astoria was waiting for her by the counter and approached her as soon as she saw her. Her blue eyes were red, as if she had been crying.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, concerned. "Is it Malfoy?"

She didn't need to ask; of course it was him. Hermione saw her suspicions confirmed when the young blonde girl nodded. The tip of her little nose was also tinted pink and Hermione wanted to curse Malfoy without even knowing what he had done yet.

"He's gone," Astoria whispered.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked around her. There was no one there, just the two of them. The lights were dim and she imagined that, as at all times, someone from the Ministry would be watching them at that moment somehow.

"Have you alerted the Auror Office?" Hermione asked, getting more and more nervous. "Did you tell them Malfoy is out there? Has he done something to you to get away?"

And this time, the Slytherin shook her head. "No, I haven't warned anyone."

"Why?!" Hermione urged. "We have to sound the alarm as soon as possible, he can't walk very far as he doesn't have magic."

"It's just that I was the one who allowed him out, Hermione." Astoria took a deep breath, her hands trembling. "I told him he could go out for an hour, just an hour. And he accepted… but that was more than three hours ago and he still hasn't come back "

For God’s sake! Astoria had given him the key to his cell, metaphorically speaking. Malfoy hadn't even had to attack her, as she had trusted him. He hadn't changed one bit; he was still a rat.

"Did he tell you where he was going? Why did he want to go out?"

"Why do you think, Hermione? He's been locked up for three years! And he... he is my friend, he still is." She believed that she could trust him.

Well, clearly, that was not the case. Hermione snorted. She could find him, she knew it very well. She was his guardian in PROFSDAR, which gave her certain advantages. She would locate him in a second.

Before saying another word, Hermione took a small piece of paper out of her pocket. She began to unfold it over and over again until the document became as large as any detailed map of the city of London. Carefully she put the map down and pointed her wand at it.

" _Locatio,"_ she whispered.

A small thread of light fired to the paper, which began to present lines that little by little were connecting between them. In front of her eyes and Astoria Greengrass', suddenly there was a map of Knockturn Alley and, inside one of the establishments, there was a black dot, almost like an ink stain: it was Draco Malfoy.

"What is he doing in Knockturn Alley?" Hermione asked, more to herself than to Astoria.

The blonde girl opened her mouth wide, surprised.

"I swear he told me he was going to the cemetery, that he wanted to say goodbye to his mother."

Hearing those words gave Hermione an intense chill. She hadn't really thought about it, but Narcissa Malfoy had died during the final battle at Hogwarts, killed by the Death Eaters themselves in the most bizarre way. She understood now why Astoria had trusted Malfoy. The only thing was that some people didn't deserve any kind of trust in them.

"It's okay, Astoria. I'll go find him, I better call Harry or... "

"No."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, she couldn’t understand why Astoria would refuse.

"No Please. If the Aurors find out that I was the one who allowed him to leave, they can… they can…" She gasped in panic, "accuse me of collaborating with the Death Eaters, or even worse!"

She was right about that, actually. Given Astoria Greengrass' history, with a brother imprisoned in Azkaban for being a dark wizard, it was likely that no one at trial would believe that Astoria only wanted to help her old friend. Hermione knew that Astoria's intentions had been sincere, but not everyone would be so easy to convince.

"Harry won't say anything…" Hermione whispered, though she wasn't quite sure of that. Harry was an Auror, he couldn't ignore his obligations that easily.

"Hermione, please. I know Draco is not doing anything bad. He is not dangerous, he never has been."

Hermione controlled herself not to rebut that argument. Draco Malfoy was dangerous, that she knew very well. He had fought alongside the Death Eaters while he was still a child and had left Azkaban alive and apparently without losing his mind. The boy was much scarier than Astoria could ever imagine.

"Okay, I'll go find him. But I'll have to ask the aurors for help if he is doing something illegal, do you understand?"

Astoria nodded, grateful to Hermione. The brunette witch folded the map again with just one swipe of her wand and it returned itself to her jacket pocket.

"I will see you in a bit," Hermione said, with a worried expression. She then disappeared up the stairs that led to the surface.

"Draco…" Hermione heard Astoria talking out loud to herself, she sounded worried. "I hope you are not as stupid as to get yourself into a problem you can’t solve".

***

She remembered exactly where she had seen Draco Malfoy through the map, so she appeared right at the door of that establishment. The alley was deadly dark, almost deserted. Only a couple of herbology shops remained open after the war ended and most of the store fronts had been left there, empty and useless. Hermione felt irrationally scared when she realized that she was there alone. She squeezed her wand tighter.

She knew that Draco Malfoy had been at number 16 of that alley, quite close to the creepy _Borgin and Burkes_ store, where she and her friends had seen Malfoy about five years ago, hatching his plan to allow the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. She shuddered just remembering it, those had been very hard times for the Wizarding World.

She heard a click behind which startled her, but as she turned, she realised it was just a black cat. The cat ran off as Hermione saw it. She tried to keep herself calm as she cursed Malfoy in her mind for forcing her to come there. If it had been up to her, Harry and Ron would have been with her in that moment… but she didn't want to damage Astoria whatsoever. She understood that she had made a mistake.

The shop windows were shattered, and the dusty door creaked when Hermione opened it. She raised her wand in front of her.

" _Lumos._ "̎

An indigo light flared from the tip of her wand, illuminating the room a little. She heard a creaking sound. Hermione walked slowly, not knowing what the hell she was going to find. What if Draco Malfoy wasn't alone? What if he had met up with some other Death Eater? She swallowed thickly at that thought. She was fully aware that they could kill her without much effort. She regretted having gone there alone... although she had no choice but to keep walking to find out what the hell Draco was doing there.

She walked among a pile of furniture on the floor and, judging by the enormous amount of broken and half-burned books scattered throughout the premises, she imagined that the place had once been a bookstore. She remembered the name of it: _Berrycloth Bookstore_. Once, before the war, she had been tempted to go. She knew there were some interesting books there, books that she couldn’t have found not even in the Forbidden Section of the Hogwarts library. But she had never dared to cross Knockturn Alley and enter that establishment... not until now.

At the back of the room she could hear something, or someone. It was a soft sound that Hermione quickly identified as turning the pages of a book. She took a breath before being seen by whoever was there and she squeezed her wand more firmly between her fingers. She was ready to cast a spell at the slightest movement.

"Stay still," she said in a serious tone.

Draco looked as surprised as if he had seen a ghost... well, probably much more, since ghosts were easy to spot in abandoned premises. He was lying on the ground, among the pile of rubble and had a red and black book in his hands. He managed to read it thanks to one of the magic devices of the place: a small ball of fire that floated around him and illuminated the pages. He froze when he saw her.

"Granger…" Draco whispered.

He seemed to have lost track of time, although there were no clocks nearby and she knew it. Hermione approached him while still aiming her wand at him. She realized that, in an incredible way, Draco Malfoy looked quite like the Draco she knew, whom she had seen a thousand times during her teenage years. He had showered, shaved, and changed clothes. He was still thin, yes, but there was nothing about him that seemed defeated anymore, not at all. It was like having the same old Draco Malfoy in front of her.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Night reading," he replied dismissively, "I couldn't sleep."

Was he going to make fun of her? The witch took a deep breath, trying to somehow see what he was reading. What book could be so important to risk being sent back to Azkaban? Perhaps, after all, she had been wrong: maybe Draco Malfoy _had_ lost his mind _._

"Give me the book," she ordered.

Draco let it fall to the ground arrogantly and he stood up. Then he raised his hands, declaring himself unarmed. Only the ball of fire lit up his pale face. He narrowed his eyes at her in defiance once more.

"Okay, I give up," Draco said. And it sounded like the situation seemed amusing to him, "but… tell me, how did you find me?"

What world did that guy live in? Hermione clicked her tongue, still pointing her wand at him.

"If you had read the damn PROFSDAR rules, you'd know that, as your guardian, I can know your location at all times!"

"Oh shit," he said when he understood. Obviously, that was a fact that he did not know and caught him off guard.

"Give me one reason, Malfoy, one reason not to summon all the aurors right now to take you back to Azkaban."

She already had that reason, actually: Astoria. But she was torn between what to do. She should call the aurors, it was only fair. Malfoy would return to Azkaban and they would have one less Death Eater in England… but at the same time, it was Malfoy. He was an asshole and a supremacist, yes, but he also was her old classmate and she had only found him reading, he was not practicing magic of any kind. Furthermore, he was the same person who had refused to identify Harry Potter in front of the Death Eaters, even if it had been years ago. She didn't want to think about it, really… but she felt a little sorry for him. Three years locked up in Azkaban must have been hard for him. Malfoy was his age and they had grown up together...

"Oh, shit. Don't tell me you're going to take pity on me, Granger..."

And he said it as a mockery, but something in his tone of voice made Hermione know that Draco wanted her to take pity on him, not send him back to prison. The book must be very important if he had decided to risk so much to be able to read it.

"Don't provoke me, Malfoy."

It took him a moment to speak, and when he did, his eyes were completely fixed on her. The silence became so heavy that it seemed to be the predecessor of a storm, of a deafening scream… and it actually was, only that Malfoy's voice sounded really calm.

"You want a reason?" he asked. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

Malfoy then proceeded to speak:

"Three days without water. Sometimes four. You might think that your body will get used to it, but it never does. When you think that you are already dead, that you have finally escaped from that hell, they do not allow you to die. They give you water again, they stop torturing you for a couple of days."

Hermione swallowed thickly as she narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about? "

"It's not nice to hear, Granger. They burn you alive until you confess... and believe me, you confess in the end. You even confess things that you have not done, of which you have no idea, you spit the names of people you do not know. You confess your worst memories, your dreams, the things you have done and the things you still want to do."

"Malfoy, what…?"

He brushed a strand of blond hair from his face almost violently while he was still speaking.

"They force you to spend hours and hours in your cell with the dementors. And... Granger, you don't know what it feels like." A sinister smile spread across that grim face. "A cold so intense that it is not of this world. You feel… sadness, the most corrosive despair. And when you think that you can't keep going anymore, that you have nothing left, they always find something else: a little hope, a dream to fulfill, even if it is just a good memory buried deep in your mind."

His voice was so husky, he sounded so serious… Hermione could clearly imagine each and every one of the things he narrated to her. And her hands trembled when she heard them. Azkaban was a terrible place, yes, but… could it be _that_ bad? She had never been there, it was true, but if such bad things happened there, someone would know, someone would do something.

"That can't be…" she muttered.

Then she remembered the endless marks and burns on Draco's arms. She wondered how many more he had in the rest of his body and for an instant she was moved by compassion. She knew that that was exactly what he wanted, that he was manipulating her. Although that didn't make those marks on his body any less real. The torture he described almost… almost hurt her, too. He didn't seem to be lying, although he would have a reason for doing so: to convince her not to return him to Azkaban. Because he wasn't the type of person who would do it by begging or pleading with her, no. Even to convince her of something like this he had to do it his way: destroying everything in his path.

She hadn't liked Draco Malfoy ten years ago and she didn't like him now, she was sure of that. She approached him decisively and pointed her wand at his hands.

"If you try to do something like this again, I guarantee that I won't be the one to come looking for you: it will be the entire office of Aurors."

Draco didn't seem concerned by those words, rather he chuckled, causing Hermione a fit of rage that she barely managed to control. Focusing on her wand, she cast a non-verbal spell and suddenly the magical handcuffs returned to Malfoy's wrists, just where they had been earlier that morning. The young man grimaced when he felt one of those magic threads scorch his skin, but he didn't say anything out loud. Hermione urged him to walk towards the door. On any other occasion she would have grabbed his arm to force him to walk faster, but she refused to touch Draco Malfoy. She was… scared.

"We'll talk about this."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating, Granger?" He said. "You are treating me as if you had found me invoking the Dark Lord instead of reading quietly in a place without distractions."

She was not going to fall for his provocations. What the hell did Malfoy want? He seemed… like he wanted her to curse him. She wasn't going to do it for various reasons, the first one being that they were no longer thirteen —neither of them— that she was now his guardian in the Rehabilitation Program and, furthermore, that he was unarmed. She could never attack a wandless wizard, not even if it was him.

"Shut up and walk," she growled.

Draco was silent for a few seconds. Then he smirked and shot her a sidelong glance.

"I'm sure giving me orders makes you wet," he hissed.

It was enough.

Hermione pointed to Draco's lips and waved her wand. His stupid lips still had that ridiculous smirk on them.

" _Silencio_ "

And this time it was her who smiled when Draco Malfoy tried to speak but not a single sound came from his lips. Hermione focused on ignoring him then. She couldn't stand that deep voice he had now, as if he had become a man overnight and that raspy voice of his had to constantly remind her of it.

Hermione wondered if she herself had changed as much as he had in recent years, but she knew it wasn't possible. Draco Malfoy remained the same in some aspects and had evolved, for the worse, in others. Just as she had always imagined.

She did not remove the Silencing Charm or the magic handcuffs until they had reached the Residence again, a few minutes later. There, Hermione nodded to Astoria from a distance and then she waited patiently for the dark figure of Malfoy to climb the stairs that led to his room on the fourth floor. She didn't move until she was sure that Draco was completely out of sight and then, only then, did Hermione allow herself to breathe again.

She was about to leave, since it was almost two in the morning, but something caught her attention: in the sign in book of the guests of the Residence, he could see the refined handwriting of Draco Malfoy, who had written his name on the current page. She knew that if someone checked the book they would realize that he had left at some point... and that he had not returned.

Hermione pressed her lips together and erased Draco Malfoy's name from that page using her wand, as if that issue had never existed. After that, with her hands still shaking with rage, she left the Residence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! I really love it. I honestly can't wait for the whole drama to come!!  
> Thank you for reading me, I'll post the next chapter soon!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooo much to Kaybaybay_ss. You are the absolute best!!

_Chapter 7_

_Sometimes it's so crazy that nothing can save me, / but it's the only thing that I have._

Sum 41 - Pieces

DRACO

He imagined that it was around seven thirty in the morning, but there were no windows in his room that could confirm that. There was no daylight, just an annoying artificial illumination that would suddenly turn on. Draco hadn't slept at all. Not a single minute.

Fuck.

He had hoped, at least, to be able to rest after leaving Azkaban. Was that not going to be possible?

It was Granger's fault. She was always sticking her nose in everybody else’s businesses. Why couldn't she butt out? But no, she had had to run after him like a puppy after his owner… or rather, like a lion after his prey. Because that was him: a mere prey that she would not leave alone until she had consumed it.

On top of it, he hadn't been able to read the book. He had come to the _Berrycloth bookstore_ with a very clear picture in mind of what he was looking for and had wasted too much time before finding it. Yes, the book was important, Draco had heard of it many times before he actually needed it: Volume 7 of the _Complete Guide to Practical Spells in Dark Magic_. He needed a very particular spell, one that was only found in between those pages

But now it would be impossible to find because Granger had ruined everything. Thank you, Gryffindor, once again.

Draco struggled to his feet. He felt like shit if he had to be honest. He wanted to sleep, even if it was only an hour. Close his eyes and disconnect his mind from this reality that seemed more like a nightmare with every passing second. He walked to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He noticed that his eyes were mostly red. They felt dry and itchy from lack of sleep. Every time he tried to sleep, he remembered all the horrors he had experienced in Azkaban: the torture, his torturer, the pain ...

Draco took a quick shower and dressed similarly to the day before: black pants and a black shirt. He was glad he had at least been able to remove his Azkaban uniform. He liked to feel like a person again. He was buttoning his shirt when his stomach rumbled loudly and it wasn't until then that he realized he hadn't eaten for many hours, probably days. His body had gotten used to extreme hunger thanks to Azkaban… but he no longer had to suffer that.

He left his room and, following directions posted on the walls of the Residence, Draco came to a small dining room with about ten chairs spread around different tables on the second floor. He found a small counter with various food options: bread rolls, fruit, cereal… also, he could choose between coffee and tea. His stomach rumbled again and his first instinct was almost to cry.

Food.

Lots and lots of food.

He wouldn’t have to worry about starving to death again.

He had almost forgotten what it was like to have breakfast, really. He hadn't done it since Hogwarts. Azkaban was not exactly a prison well known for its gastronomy. He sighed as he thought about how much weight he had lost. Draco almost felt embarrassed to look at himself in the mirror… he was only a bag full of bones now.

He put a small croissant on a plate and poured himself a cup of coffee with just a couple of drops of cold milk. He stared at that little breakfast as if he still couldn't believe he was about to eat.

"The first day is the strangest one," he heard a voice behind him, "you wonder if it's all a dream."

Although the voice was deep, it was a girl, a woman. Draco watched her for a moment, somewhat suspicious. From her white clothes, he could see that she was one of the witches who worked at the Residence, just as Astoria did. She looked his age, more or less, and she was pretty, or so she seemed to him. She had short brown hair and green eyes.

"I'm Miranda Ewing," she introduced herself.

Draco didn't answer. Rather, he picked up his food and made his way to a table.

"I don’t bite, Malfoy!" Miranda exclaimed.

Draco's hands shook when he heard that, but he managed to set the cup and the plate down on a red tablecloth at a single person table. He was no longer used to talking to people; much less to do it naturally. Who the hell was this Miranda and why did she treat him so familiar? He understood that people knew him, that he was ‘famous’, and he had known beforehand he would receive some sort of harassment after leaving Azkaban... but, although Miranda's words had not been unpleasant, there was something about her that he did not quite understand... was she interested?

He didn't want to raise his head to her again. He wouldn't admit it, but Draco Malfoy was afraid she'd get close to him. He wanted to be left alone, completely alone. Forever. Although loneliness hurt, at least it was something he knew quite well already.

He took a bite of his croissant and closed his eyes to enjoy it. It tasted like paradise. Then he took a drink of coffee and felt almost an orgasm. How much he had missed something like that...

"Draco!"

The voice startled him and he couldn't help but think that it was going to be impossible for him to enjoy his quiet breakfast without having to deal with someone. He narrowed his eyes when he looked at Astoria, annoyed.

"You scared me," he murmured.

And probably people wouldn’t understand, but he... he could no longer bear a shock from behind, a voice that surprised him or the feeling of having someone too close to his body. In Azkaban he had been constantly on the alert, afraid that some dementor would get to touch him, afraid that some torture would get out of hand, afraid of… everything. Absolutely everything.

It surprised him when Astoria responded to his words with clear offense.

"I scared _you_?" She asked, sitting down in the chair across from his. "And what about what you did to me last night?" Astoria lowered her voice. "Draco, you almost got me into huge trouble. I could have lost my job!"

"You called Granger, I know it was you," that was his reply, taking another sip of coffee nonchalantly.

"Of course it was me. We said an hour, Draco! And three hours passed. You had me very worried, I thought something had happened to you."

He was silent. Then he slowly raised his head and looked into Astoria's blue eyes.

"I need a favor," he told his friend.

Astoria shook her head effusively.

"Get lost, Malfoy. Of course I won’t help you again. "

"Yesterday I left something I need in a bookstore. It's a book, I dropped it and I forgot to bring it with me."

"Then wait for Granger to authorise your little trips out and get it back."

Draco clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"No. You don't understand, Astoria. I need that book; I need it now."

Astoria wasn't going to be so easily swayed. She shrugged, taking a breath.

"I don't see why it should be my problem. Draco, yesterday you came very close to getting me in deep shit… getting us both. If Granger had summoned the Aurors, you'd be back in Azkaban right now." Her lips pressed into an uncomfortable pout. "Sorry, but I don't think a book is so important that I risk that."

"We wouldn't risk anything. I just need you to go to that bookstore and pick it up. No one will see you and nothing will happen. Please Astoria, I'm asking you as a friend."

"Draco, no..."

"I'll behave, I promise."

The plea in Draco's voice threatened to convince her. Damn, she was too sorry for Draco Malfoy, he looked completely sunk. He was her friend, yes, and he had spent three years in a horrible magical jail. Draco had had a tough life and now… he was just asking for a book. Just one book.

"Don't manipulate me," she whispered, raising her index finger in warning. "I fell in your stupid trap yesterday, Draco, but don't think you're going to be able to tease me so easily."

"I give you my word, Astoria. I swear to you," he said. His gray eyes gleamed with sorrow and fear. "If I fail you again, call the Aurors yourself, okay? But I need that favour. I have no one else, Astoria, no one."

Astoria sighed, getting back to her feet. She knew that she could leave him there and never speak to Draco again. She could do that… but she could also trust him once again. Draco was arrogant and tricky, he always had been. But he was also loyal to the people he loved, the most loyal person she had ever met. She would sometimes tease him during the school years by saying that he could have been a part of Hufflepuff and not Slytherin. He used to respond with a curse or a mumbled insult.

"Okay," she finally agreed. "What book?"

Draco sighed in relief and proceeded to open up a bit for the first time in years. She would never agree to help him if she knew what he was planning so he could be only half sincere. Saving some details, he then confessed to Astoria the truth of what it was he wanted to accomplish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying the story :) I am working on translating the next chapters. I know it might be a bit slow yet but I promise it will be fire soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot to Kaybaybay_ss :) God you are so necessary for this story!

_Capítulo 8_

_I want to be shameless like the sun, / moving into you, / Entering light._

Sol Seppy - Enter One

HERMIONE

Scholz's office was open and Hermione prepared herself to enter just as one of the Azkaban officials came out from it. Hermione recognized him by the black and somewhat gloomy suits worn by the officials who, like Ferdinand, were dedicated to entering and leaving Azkaban: ensuring the security there, supervising the prisoners and the dementors...

"Hermione!" Scholz greeted, almost too happy to see her.

She still thought that kind of treatment was a bit strange, but she smiled the best she could, appearing to be normal. She wasn't going to mention what had happened with Draco Malfoy, she couldn't because that would get her in trouble too.

"How are you Mr. Scholz?" she asked, then she corrected herself. She knew he would appreciate it. Scholz didn't like being treated so formally. "I'm sorry, how are you, John?"

"Good very good. I'm glad to see you. I wasn't expecting you so soon. Is there something wrong?"

"Nope. Everything is ok" she replied, though she had a hard time lying. She walked over to his desk and sat on one of the black leather chairs. "Well, actually there is something. I wanted to ask you a question."

"Go ahead."

The witch was thoughtful for a moment, planning how to formulate what she wanted to say. She had had all night to think about how she would talk to her boss and still she wasn’t ready to do so. But she had to, she needed to ensure that Draco Malfoy was not a danger to anyone. She didn't know what the hell he had been doing the day before, but she knew Draco was up to no good.

"I was wondering if there's… a way to control Malfoy. To control him more strictly, I mean. He doesn't have a wand, I know that, but… there are some other ways he could find to do magic."

Without a wand and no chance of getting one, Malfoy could perform very simple spells; things like warming up a tea, perhaps, or wiping a wine stain from a shirt. But she knew that if he ever got a wand, Draco Malfoy would be capable of destroying the world.

"Control him?" Scholz's face was suddenly concerned, almost furious when he heard her. "Has he done anything?" The young man's knuckles tightened on the table as Scholz narrowed his brown eyes and clenched his jaw. "Hermione, you can tell me. I guarantee that I can give the order to have him returned to Azkaban right now, he will be back there in just an hour and..."

"No. No!" Hermione interrupted him. "It's really not necessary, John." She remembered using his name. "He’s done nothing. It's just… Malfoy seems to be a bit traumatized. I am scared that he could try something. I don't know, maybe he could hurt himself."

She didn't dare to say ‘hurt someone’. In those moments Hermione realized that Scholz would have him sent to Azkaban just because she had said those words. No. She still couldn't be sure that Malfoy was capable of those things, though it wouldn't surprise her either.

Scholz nodded.

"I get it, Azkaban is a tough place. It can break anyone."

"Yes, I agree. "

"Don't worry, Hermione. I will make sure someone at the Residence gives him some preventive potion in the food, it is normal procedure. This way we will prevent him from trying to attack himself... or someone else."

"Thank you, Mr. Scho…" She cleared her throat. "Thanks, John."

For a second she had feared for Malfoy. What if Scholz did decide to apply one of those magic containment treatments? She knew it would have killed Malfoy slowly. She hadn't seen him in years, yes, but she remembered him well in school. Draco Malfoy was a powerful wizard, very much indeed. It was harmful enough that he couldn't have a wand, but containing the magic within him could result in terrible disaster.

Hermione got up from her chair and headed for the door. She nervously brushed a lock of curly hair from her face and managed to keep it behind her ear. She touched the doorknob with her fingers but hadn't yet opened the door when Scholz spoke once more.

"Hermione," he called as he looked inattentively through some documents placed in front of him, "I was wondering if… you would like us to have dinner someday. Nothing formal, just…" Scholz cleared his throat and looked up. "You know."

Her hand trembled a little, but she managed to control it effectively. Dinner with him, with her boss. It was weird but she couldn’t refuse. Scholz hadn't implied anything romantic, just a colleague’s dinner, right?

"Sure," she answered, smiling, "sounds good."

Scholz seemed more than satisfied with the answer.

"Perfect. See you."

"See you."

Hermione was finally able to let out a heavy sigh after she closed the door behind her. Scholz made her nervous, but not in the same way that Viktor had, for example, or even Ron a few years ago. He made her nervous in a different way. Not even the way Malfoy did when he looked at her with those gray eyes that seemed capable of turning her into stone. It was something stranger than that.

She left the office, hurrying through the corridors of the Ministry. When she went down to the main hall, she met Mr. Weasley and greeted him with a smile and a wave of her hand. The Ministry was busy, as always, with endless wizards running around. She remembered exactly the battle that had happened there. Very important people had died that day, people like Sirius Black.

She sometimes believed that the rest of the Wizarding World had forgotten about the war: the deaths, the suffering… But here she was: working for the Ministry of Magic and rehabilitating Death Eaters!

With a sigh, Hermione looked at her watch. It was not yet ten in the morning, but she had no intention of going to see Malfoy that day. He had earned her indifference for at least a couple more days. Although there was something she did have to do. She hadn't forgotten about it. The day before, in Knockturn Alley, Draco had violated his freedom to go read a book —certainly a dark magic one—. The book had fallen and neither of them had picked it up from the floor. Since the Berrycloth bookstore was now closed, the book must have remained in the same place where he had dropped it.

Hermione was dying to know what the hell Malfoy was up to, and she was planning to find out very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry it is taking me a bit of time to get my translations done. I promise there are waaay more chapters coming soon! Thank you, it makes me really happy to know there are some people reading my story :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot to Lady Occamy and Aashna for helping me correcting this chapter :). Thanks to Kaybaybay_ss (<3) too. You guys are so helpful, I appreciate it so much!
> 
> Author's note:  
> First of all. This is a translation of my fanfic 'Nunca le hagas cosquillas a un Dragón herido'. I also just have to say I have done my best to translate the fanfic, although I am not a native English speaker. I am pretty fluent in 'drunk Scottish', 'broken English', 'drinking wine to fix things' and 'Draco-Malfoy-acting-as-a-cunt language'. So please please please don't be mean to my translation!
> 
> I want to thank Elsa, I've been sooooo annoying to her while writing this fanfic (she also helped me creating this fic's soundtrack), thanks to David (I started to write this fanfic at his place), to Ague, Sandra and to Gallaecia, as she showed me Breath Mints and Battle Scars, a fanfiction by Onyx and Elm that I looooved, it is such an inspirational story.
> 
> Hope you enjoy 'Never tickle a wounded Dragon'!


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